


Interlude: Saint Marguerite Island.

by Metalkatt



Category: Shadow Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-05
Updated: 2005-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalkatt/pseuds/Metalkatt
Summary: Conversation, frustration, and a captive audience.
Relationships: Nicolai Conrad & Yuri Hyuga
Kudos: 1





	Interlude: Saint Marguerite Island.

Sweat dripped from the dark tendrils of the Harmonixer's hair and onto the machine to which he was pinioned. The steady, yellow glow from the electric lights kept the shadows from flickering and jumping, unlike the torchlit, mazelike corridors of the rest of the prison on Saint Marguerite Island. As red-brown eyes watched the reflections of the light swim against the metal below him, Yuri reflected on his relief that none of the others were forced to go through this pain. He knew he could handle it, whereas the fear lingered in his mind that the old man or the dancer might break under the stress.

He supposed he should thank heavens for small favours--Veronica, the self-proclaimed monarch in blue, had slipped out a few minutes ago to use whatever facilities existed in this hellhole of a prison. _Must be hard for her to take a leak with all that rubber crap to get on and take off,_ he thought to himself, a wry smile curling his cracked lips. Deciding to make use of what time he had, Yuri closed his large, dark eyes and focused inward, looking for the spirits of Water and Light that would help him heal the damage to his body inflicted by the electrical apparatus.

He could sense them sleeping within him, unable to release their full power, but able to ease his pain somewhat. The throb in his temple slowed and the ache in his jaw lessened as the damage caused by the heavy-handed blows healed. Physical pain and trauma he was used to--he'd fought countless monsters, madmen, and gods, not to mention the massive migraines induced by the beautiful Fire-class Koudelka, as she directed him to one place or another, and he was pretty much inured to it by now.

It was the ache in his heart that troubled him, the heart that yearned to see cornflower eyes crinkle up at him in a smile, the heart that cried out to hear her tintinnabulating laughter once again. Yuri wasn't blind; he could tell that Karin was forming an attachment to him, and once, that would have been enough. Now… Now, he knew he could best handle things by playing dumb and letting everyone think he was the second-biggest lug in the world--right after Joachim, of course.

The clank of the door handle brought the young man out of his reverie, and he licked his lips not in anticipation, but to make sure none of his defiant insults got stuck on the way out. However, the golden hair that met his vision when he raised his head was not the bleached-out, white-blond of his current tormentress, but the honey-gold of the dispossessed exorcist who dressed in white.

Nicholai's green eyes took in the burning red of his captive's, and he tipped his head to the right, subtle expressions of contempt, quietude, and curiosity flitting over his face. He disliked Veronica's 'playroom,' as she called it, with its iron maiden, rack, and other assorted paraphernalia of torture. The machinery and equipment always had a slight sheen to it, as if it had never been cleaned properly, and the scents of excrement, sweat, and sex clung to everything no matter how thoroughly things were scrubbed. He held the private belief that it was simply the congealed form of the intense fear and pain from everyone who'd ever been broken in the room, and it agitated him, prodding him to soak it in.

"Veronica, you've changed," Yuri sassed when his lungs saw fit to working again.

"I sent her to shower. The pungency of reflected pain is not one I care to scent," Nicholai explained with a shrug, eyes never leaving Yuri's as he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room.

"No, of course not. Direct agony is more your thing, I'm sure." The leather of Yuri's thin, fitted jacket creaked as he tightened his shoulders to bring himself up more fully. Veronica was easier to manipulate when he looked hangdog, but Yuri knew Nicholai didn't buy it any more than Yuri would if their positions were reversed. _Then again, our positions would never **be** reversed. I wouldn't be the one trying to destroy the world with Psycho Bitch Queen as my sidekick. Margarete was never this friggin' weird._

One well-groomed eyebrow rose. "Of course. The taste is much sweeter when sipped directly from the font." The blond was careful to keep his clothing from brushing up on the equipment; he didn't want that stench to cling to him any more than could be gotten rid of in a wash. He didn't want it to seep into him and bring him to Veronica's level.

"So tell me," Yuri began, tracking the man's movements, "how is it that a Light class got all messed up in this? Thought holy-types like you were supposed to bask in the light of God and all that bull." _Bull for you anyway… she **did** have a direct communion with the Big Guy, I'm sure._

A placid look in return, though Nicholai didn't miss a beat. "And I thought all demons were out for the complete destruction of the world. However, here we are, defying our supposed natures." He stopped in front of the controls of the electric-shock device, looking them over with a frown. He then directed his attention to the captive fusion expert once more. "I am a Light class who is trying to clear the canvas so I can paint my masterpiece, and you are the demon who is out to preserve this worthless scribbling of graffiti."

"Most demons _are_ out to destroy the world," Yuri clarified, preferring snark to panic. "However, **I'm** not a demon." It seemed more and more that the blond in front of him was going to prove impossible to read, and this began to worry the young man. The woman was easy--she wanted him to scream and pant and be defiant, all of which he could do without issue; it wasn't as if he meant it. Something about the priest put him on his guard, though. In a way, he felt utterly familiar, as if Yuri had known him for ages, and yet, the Harmonixer acknowledged that he knew nothing past what Karin had told them all.

"No, Godslayer, you merely carry them within you," came the sniff as the blond spared one more glance to the control panel before moving to face the darker one full-on. "That fascinates me: you force a Soul Contract with them all, and yet do not lose yourself inside their madness." Green plumbed red as if the exorcist were looking for the answers to his questions in those russet pools. They glinted, gemstone facets reflecting the light, and Nicholai had the overwhelming feeling that if he could just stare into them long enough, explore them deep enough, the secrets of the world would be revealed to him. It infuriated him and aroused his curiosity, the utter pull his polar opposite was having on him. "Such willpower, and in an ordinary human. It cannot last, of course; the Holy Mistletoe will destroy your soul from the inside out. It's still a fascinating study." His voice was low and hypnotic as he spoke, his intrigue and frustration carrying in his tones.

"Oh, what, you're planning to dissect me like a frog? Got news for you, buddy: the frog hates your guts, and so do I." The edginess increased as Nicholai got closer to him. Yuri couldn't quite place why the man's proximity gave him such jitters--he hadn't had a case of the willies this bad since before he'd gotten used to Alice's opposing properties of Light.

Nicholai's lips twitched in what might have been a smile before his jaw set, and he raised his arm to backhand Yuri across the face. The man irked him so, and Nicholai itched to assert his superiority over this creature, to remind the dark one of his place.

Yuri saw the blow coming and closed his eyes, steeling his own jaw to take the brunt of it. He waited several seconds, but the strike never came. Ruby-brown eyes flew open at the gentle slide of fingertips on his chin, catching a glimpse of green that filled his field of view right before they slammed shut again at the touch of soft lips against his own. _He tastes like Alice,_ Yuri thought at first before the blond slipped inside his defences, and he was able to discern the differences. _Mint, male, buttercream, and Light,_ he realised after a moment.

Every infuriating action of this Harmonixer provoked Nicholai's unending curiosity, from their first, mocking argument to the unflinching brace for the heavy blow. Yuri never reacted the way the blond predicted, not even when he second-guessed himself. The brat always came up with another option. That resourcefulness, that arrogance made Nicholai want to conquer it, subjugate it into something he could identify and possess. It intrigued and enticed him, set his blood to racing. He took his time exploring the warm cavern of Yuri's mouth, the tastes of ginseng gum, dark spice, and Darkness flooding his senses.

Yuri regained his mental balance, pushing the taste of Light out of his mind as he twisted his head, trying to pull away from Nicholai. He watched the green-eyed man step back, a thin strand of saliva connecting them for a moment before snapping to land somewhere between them on the metal. Red eyes glared, fury crowding out shock and confusion. "--the **hell** was that?"

That was the very question running through the blond man's mind. Instead of speaking, he gave Yuri one last look, then turned, reaching for the door handle.

"Get back here, you pansy sonofabitch!" If he hadn't been locked away from his power by the energy flow of the machine, he would have called on Somnion to beat the living tar out of that self-satisfied bastard.

"Miss me already?" Nicholai kept his reply even, not bothering to turn back.

"I'm going to kill you the next time I get my hands on you," Yuri vowed with a growl.

"M-hm." Nicholai's lips turned up in a small smile as he let out the small chuckle, then went through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. He headed out and for his office, feeling the need for a shower, himself. He didn't notice the wolf lying flat in the corner, hiding in a shadow, nor did he hear it creep towards the open door on soft paws as he made for the stairs.


End file.
